


In The Bright Hereafter

by sabrina_il (marina)



Category: The Authority
Genre: Backstory, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-25
Updated: 2011-12-25
Packaged: 2017-10-28 02:50:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/302913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marina/pseuds/sabrina_il
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One of the interesting side effects of waking up with no memory of who you are or anything you've ever done is that your body doesn't feel like your own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In The Bright Hereafter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [toxictattoo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/toxictattoo/gifts).



One of the interesting side effects of waking up with no memory of who you are or anything you've ever done is that your body doesn't feel like your own. It's a foreign object, like something you're wearing. You move your hand and find yourself a little surprised when it obeys. Midnighter is almost grateful for the grueling training regime, in those first few months. Not for the sedatives they pump into him every time he misbehaves – he's too dangerous of an animal, they have to teach him a lesson and keep his leash tight, he understands – but for the endless exercise, sparring and battle training.

It lets him get to know this old-new body's every muscle, every weakness. The computer in his brain absorbs everything, incorporates everything to make its algorithms more precise. They'd put a rough estimate of his abilities in his head when they made him (he is Bendix's creation, through and through, he doesn't kid himself about that) but every time he stretches, hits something, pushes his own physical limits, the calculations in his head get more accurate.

He wonders if Apollo went through a similar process or if one glorious hour in the sun was enough to make him feel like his body was his own, sinew filled with energy, limbs easily controllable.

This thing between him and Apollo started a long time ago. As far back as it goes, really, considering they're both barely two years old in years-they-actually-remember. They'd circled each other for ages, long enough for everyone else to notice, but nothing happened until after that disastrous mission. Until they'd decided to run away and be undercover rogue superheroes together, as an alternative to getting killed.

Midnighter thinks about how long it's been when they're sitting in the clearing of some forest in the middle of the day. Apollo's basking in the sunlight, lying on the grass with his arms and legs spread out, eyes closed and a blissed out expression on his face. Sometimes after a long time indoors he gets like this. Lying still and basking rather than zooming through the air while his body recharges. Midnighter's sitting on a tree stump not far from him, in the shade. He's wearing dark clothes, long sleeves to hide his scars, and he doesn't feel like sweating any more than he has to.

Apollo makes for a pretty sight. Midnighter appreciates the chance to ogle him like this. He's also wearing regular, human clothes – as if they're just a pair of ordinary humans – and Midnighter takes it as a challenge, images the curves of muscle he knows so well under the loose fabric, inch by inch.

Apollo must notice his staring, because his head turns, a few strands of grass caught in his hair. His eyes open and and find Midnighter's, his lazy smile turns focused, intentional. Midnighter responds with a tiny smirk of his own. For a minute they argue, silently, through glances, but it doesn't take long for Apollo to win. Midnighter's going to learn how to resist him when he's like this, one day, open and relaxed in a way Midnighter can only imagine being in a small, windowless room he's personally checked for bugs. He sighs, relinquishes his shaded throne and goes to kneel next to Apollo.

Apollo's wearing light khakis, which Midnighter unhurriedly unbuttons just enough to allow himself easy access. Apollo hates wearing clothes, hates having layers between him and the sun, but some things are necessary to blend in. Underwear is not one of those things, for which Midnighter is grateful. He looks up and Apollo's eyes are playful, daring. Midnighter wraps a hand around his cock and squeezes, lightly. One of the things Midnighter's sorry he no longer wears on a regular basis is his gloves. He likes watching Apollo writhe while he jerks him off while wearing them.

Apollo's mouth opens slightly, his eyes sliding shut. Midnighter licks his dry lips – stupid midday heat – and bends over, taking him in his mouth. His brain helpfully supplies eighty-four scenarios where he could inflict serious bodily harm on Apollo while sustaining minimal injuries to himself, from his current position. He closes his eyes, sucks the head of Apollo's cock and goes down, pressing his tongue to the shaft as he does, and hears Apollo gasp, his hips coming off the ground. He puts a hand on Apollo's stomach and presses down, hard enough to leave bruises if his lover were the bruising kind, hollows out his cheeks and sucks, going back up the shaft, pausing to lavish attention on the head again. Apollo moans and fists a hand in his hair.

This is another thing Midnighter had had to discover all over again after his second birth. What he likes, what feels right, what works. He loves sucking cock, loves having that power, manipulating Apollo's whole body with his mouth. Loves the hands in his hair or on his mask, loves the feel of cock against his tongue. He'd never known until the first time he tried it with Apollo.

He keeps sucking, keeps going up and down the shaft, slowly and thoroughly, as if he's trying to suck the marrow out of Apollo's bones. The sun's energy is coursing through Apollo's body, settling in every limb, every cell, making Apollo more sensitive, more responsive than ever. They rarely get to do it like this, outside in bright sunlight. Midnighter hates the heat but he loves watching Apollo like this. His hand reaches down to rub Apollo's balls, massage them with his calloused thumb, squeeze until Apollo's groaning. Midnighter pulls off, tongues the slit of his cock, looks up to see golden hair like a messy halo, lips red with biting, and sinks down, down, down again, as far as he can, squeezing Apollo's balls in the process. He hears Apollo moan, low and throaty, and his mouth is filled with come.

He swallows some, pulls off and wipes the rest from his lips with the back of his hand. Apollo looks like he's still trying to parse everything. His breathing is heavy, eyes big and unfocused. Midnighter would like to get them both out of these clothes, right here and now, but they have to go. This isn't a secure location and Apollo's absorbed more than enough energy to last him a while. He climbs up Apollo's body and kisses him, Apollo's hands coming up to hold him, caress his arms through his shirt, move over his ass.

Tonight, later, when they've found cover for the night in some place bathed in comforting darkness, they'll show each other what else their bodies are capable of.


End file.
